


The Weight of the Crown

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canonical Character Death, Drama, Dreamlike, Gen, Going on a Quest, Light Angst, Magic Revealed, Magic-Users, Rescue Mission, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6720883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred kills Merlin. But that's only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of the Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2011.

It was bright and sunny, with the merest hint of a breeze, the day Merlin died. Birds stopped their singing, animals stopped their grazing, fires stopped flickering – all but one, the most important one of all. It was as if time itself stilled as Merlin burned, and never once did his gaze leave that of Mordred. He never flinched, he never cried out, he never cursed, and he never used his magic. If Mordred had been capable of it he would have felt fear in that gaze, would have trembled at the power that Merlin was holding back. But Mordred wasn't like other people. He didn't feel as they did. So while the Elders whispered about Emrys and the Once and Future King, Mordred stared impassively as Merlin turned to ash.

* * * * *

“Sire?” Leon took a few steps inside the room and stood staring at Arthur who was slumped half-asleep in his chair by the fire. He hated to be the one to wake him, Arthur needed his rest more than anything. But he had asked to be alerted to any news, and much as Leon would like never to let Arthur know what he had learned, the delay would hurt far greater. “Arthur.”

Arthur blinked himself upright, rubbing at bleary eyes. “Leon? What – have you...?” He paused at the look on Leon's face and had to fight the hardest he ever had not to let his emotions bleed into his expression. “Dead, then?”

Leon nodded. “There are witnesses, in the Courtyard. Elyan and Gwaine have questioned them. They're Druids, but we believe they are telling the truth.”

Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Merlin was dead. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grateful that Leon had been the one to come to him; he would not chatter while Arthur thought, would not yell at him for not having protected Merlin, would not cast baleful looks at him, would not make Arthur out to be the enemy.

“How?” Arthur finally asked.

“Burned.” Leon sank to a crouching position, resting his hand next to Arthur's arm on the chair. “They said he didn't make a sound. That his...magic...was useless against Mordred's.” Still so strange, to think of Merlin with magic, even when he had, when they all had, seen it with their own eyes less than a week ago. When he had used it to save them all.

Arthur realised that he was on the brink of crying and that would never do. Not when his knights needed him. Not when his father was lying dying down the corridor. Not when Camelot was in more danger than it ever had been before.

“I want to talk to them myself.” He stood up, grateful that his body didn't sway though the room seemed to spin.

“Of course,” Leon said, standing up himself. He knew it was useless to argue.

Arthur almost sighed – Merlin would have argued with him.

* * * * * *

The Druids were sitting huddled together, as if cold, even though the fire next to them was built up impossibly high. Arthur raised an eyebrow at Elyan who merely shrugged – the Knight's new code for anything magical. The Druids then.

“I wish to speak to you of Merlin,” Arthur said. He stood in front of them, aware of Gwaine glaring daggers at his back; Gwaine had loved Merlin the most, maybe even more than Arthur himself. Arthur feared he'd already lost him to his anger.

“We've already...” the first Druid began, but the look on Arthur's face quelled him. “Of course, Prince Arthur.” He made Arthur's title sound like a dirty word, a drunk's bar room curse. Arthur's gaze didn't waver.

“We expected the great Emrys to put up a fight,” the second druid, a woman, said. “So many tales about him, all lies.” She spat on the ground and Arthur's hands curled into fists. “He was supposed to be the saviour of us all. Some saviour. There was a fight and he was captured.” Arthur nodded, after all, he had been there. He had seen with his own eyes Merlin dragged away after using his magic to slay the magical creature his father had sent them to defeat. He had stood, rooted to the spot, unable to move, as Merlin had been overpowered.

“Tell me of his death,” Arthur said, and winced at Gwaine's low growl behind him.

“Our Lord Mordred asked him three times if he would forsake Camelot and join our, his, cause. Each time he said he would not. He said that he was loyal to Camelot, for all her faults, and that he would protect King Uther and his son until he died.” The woman's face morphed into a sneer. “Mordred laughed, as did everyone else.” The man next to her twitched his fingers in disagreement and Arthur wondered why the woman was lying. Who had been there that had not laughed? “Emrys was led to the stake and tied upon it. Then the fire was lit. And he burned.”

“He said nothing?” Arthur asked. “No...incantation?” All sorcerers needed to make them, needed to flick their wrists and shout out words of power, didn't they?

“His magic was not great enough for our Lord Mordred,” the woman replied. “The legends were falsely prophesied.”

“And what of his body?”

“Gone.”

“Burned completely?” Arthur asked. He could hear the others shifting behind him, but he kept staring at the woman. Her gaze shifted away from his eyes.

“Yes.”

Arthur nodded slowly. Then he unsheathed his dagger and brought it down on the woman's hand, trapping her to the table. “You're lying.” There was a commotion behind him but he ignored it. “What aren't you telling us?” He pushed the dagger in further, felt the flesh give way to his anger.

The woman's eyes flashed golden but Arthur was not afraid. He couldn't say why, but at that moment, he feared no magic.

“The body was gone, I told you.” She looked down at her hand, the blood oozing from the wound. “The flames were eating him and then they rose high, high above him, and when they died down Emrys was gone. No body. No ashes. Just gone.”

“Then what makes you think that's he dead?” Arthur hissed.

“Our Lord Mordred said so,” the woman replied, eyes lit with a fervour that sickened Arthur. Arthur who was complicit in everything that Mordred did, from virtue of helping a child.

Arthur stepped away from the table and nearly careened into Gwaine, who had moved closer towards him.

“So, not dead then?” Gwaine asked.

“No,” Arthur said, “something else I think.”

“Merlin's always been full of surprises.” He offered Arthur a small smile, an apology for the bruise already fading along Arthur's jaw.

“He certainly is,” Arthur replied.

* * * * *

“How is he?” Arthur whispered. His father looked impossibly still, a sheen of sweat on his brow, his fingers tangled in the sheets, as if paused in the middle of a fit. Gaius looked up from his vigil and moved over to Arthur.

“I fear he does not have long left, sire,” Gaius told him. “These last few skirmishes...”

“If I could have stopped him, I would have,” Arthur said. He was tired, so very tired of everyone blaming him for the actions of others. Is this what being King was going to be like?

“I know,” Gaius said, placing a hand on Arthur's arm. He looked old, Arthur thought, older than he ever had before. “It is time.”

Arthur looked into Gaius' eyes and nodded slowly. It was time for him to take his place as King, he knew that. “There's something that I have to do first.”

Gaius looked surprised. “There is hope then?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. Arthur grabbed his arms and helped Gaius to a chair as his legs went.

“There's always hope, Gaius.” Arthur laughed humourlessly. “Doesn't that sound like something Merlin would say?”

“Sire?”

“The Druids say Merlin's body just disappeared. But that he didn’t use his magic. Didn't do anything. Could he have - “ Arthur waved his hand in a motion that he hoped indicated everything he didn’t know about magic. Which was everything.

Gaius looked off into the distance, and then focused on the King's still form. “Merlin isn't like other sorcerers. He doesn't need to make incantations for his magic to work. He may very well have made himself disappear.” The hope in Gaius' eyes flared and Arthur took strength from it. “It's just the sort of thing Merlin would do, isn't it?”

Arthur smiled. “Just like him to get us all worrying for nothing,” he agreed.

“Terribly selfish of him,” Gaius said, eyes watering.

* * * * * *

“When do we leave?” was the first question Gwaine asked as soon as Arthur entered the Council chambers. The other Knights of the Round Table, as well as Gwen, all stood as he entered.

“We don't even know where he'll go,” Arthur said, motioning for them all to sit.

“He'll come back here, won't he?” asked Gwen, taking her place at Arthur’s side. Arthur smiled hesitatingly at her as she twined her fingers with his. Here, at least, no one would mind if he showed some weakness. If he showed a little that he needed them as much as they needed him.

“He might not feel he can,” Lancelot said. Arthur turned to him, assessing. Lancelot had known about Merlin's magic before. Lancelot hadn't been surprised, amazed, afraid. Lancelot knew more than him and no matter how hard he tried to bury it, the very idea of it churned his stomach. It should have been him that Merlin confided in.

Arthur realised that all eyes were on him and he tried to school his expression into something neutral. Into something less murderous.

“Merlin's never really done what's best for himself. But he may be hurt, or kept away from here somehow. Mordred seems very powerful.”

“Then we'll have to find him,” Gwaine said again. It was only the others' steady presence next to him that was keeping him from running out of the room and going looking on his own, Arthur could tell. It was only thoughts of keeping Merlin safe that kept him there, for which Arthur was more grateful than he knew what to do with.

“Agreed,” Arthur said, and the tension in the room relaxed a margin. “But we need ideas.” He paused and looked each of them in the eye, trying to gauge their mood. “We can head towards the Druid's last known camp, but I don't know how much of a match we'll be for Mordred.”

There was the tiniest gasp at his side from Gwen and he wasn't sure whether it was because she feared Mordred's power, or because she was surprised that he'd voiced his fears so clearly. But he was afraid. He'd seen the look on Merlin's face as he'd recognised the hooded figure on his horse, ordering his men to take Merlin. Merlin had faced hordes of the walking dead with less terror than he had that young boy.

“The Druids saved my life,” Leon said, slowly, as if words were hard to come by. “They are generally a peaceful race. I don't believe they all follow Mordred. I can't believe it. There must be some that would help us.”

“That may be,” Gaius said, stepping into the room, “but the Druids never do anything without getting something in return. You may pay a heavy price for their help, sire.”

Arthur nodded. He'd already been thinking much the same thing. “An alliance between our people would be a small price to pay to have Merlin back.”

Gaius nearly fell into his chair and Leon looked like his eyes would fall out of his head.

“An alliance?” Leon asked. “Truly?”

“If they'll accept, which they may not, it's what I will offer them. Trade between us, freedom for them to practice their magic within Camelot's realm, within reason of course. I've already asked Geoffrey to pull out all the lores on magic censorship my Father instigated. There's some modifying to do but...” He trailed off into silence as they all stared at him.

“You'll overturn the laws, sire?” Gaius asked. “Are you sure that's wise? People may say that you’ve been influenced by magic.”

“People can say whatever they like,” Arthur snapped. “There has hardly been a lack of executions, even all these many years after the ban first came into effect. How many people out there are practising magic in secret? Selling magic artefacts? Pretending to be normal?”

He turned towards Gaius, only to find him assessing him in that quiet way he had. Arthur tried not to shift under his gaze.

“You think magic isn't as feared by the people as it is by those within the castle walls?” Gaius asked.

“If by that you mean the King, then no. I don't.”

Arthur was sure of it now. He'd been sure of it as they'd trudged home, exhausted, and without Merlin, all sign of him vanished along with his captors. He'd been sure of it as he stared down the valley at his home, as he'd slowly followed the familiar path and thought of all the times something miraculous had happened to save his life, to save Camelot, and Merlin had been right there, as if by accident. He thought of all the times someone came before the King and accused their neighbour, or their lover, of witchcraft, and the eager gleam in his father's eyes when all Arthur saw was a jealous woman or a deceitful man. He thought of all the stories that he'd heard from his men about magic and dragons and the wonder's of the universe that they'd been told as children by their mother's and which he wasn't supposed to know about. He thought about trolls and goblins and Morgana. Most often of all he thought about Morgana. If she'd been loved by his, _their,_ father as much as Merlin was by Gaius, would she be sitting here now, a member of his council?

“Arthur,” Gwen said, and he realised it was not the first time she had called his name. He shook himself to clear his head.

“We leave tomorrow,” he said. “We go to the caves where you were healed Leon, and then we'll make a plan from there.”

“What of the King, sire?” Gaius asked.

“Prolong his life as long as you can,” Arthur said, already hardening his heart for what was to come. “As far as the people know he is alive and well and planning his next attack against the Raiders. Tell only the Council that he has fallen ill but will make a quick recovery.”

Gaius nodded. “If you're sure.”

“I can't stay here,” Arthur said. “However sick he is. I -”

“Merlin is more important,” Gaius said. It wasn't a question. Not for any of them.

* * * * *

It was bright, too bright, the day Arthur and his Knights set off in search of Merlin. Arthur couldn't help thinking that it should have been dark and gloomy, with rain clouds chasing after them, to fit their mood. But then maybe, as Gwen whispered to him as they said their goodbyes, her body pressed close to his, maybe it was a sign that all would be well. That they would find Merlin and he would be fine.

Arthur wished that he could believe as Gwen did but something was holding him back. Maybe it was that death seemed to stalk him now, turning his thoughts towards the end of things, rather than the beginning. Maybe he was a little afraid of Merlin after all. Or of how he would react when he found him. He couldn't help but think that he'd done something wrong, that day, when Merlin's power had spilled out from him. His eyes had glowed so golden it was if they were on fire and as Merlin turned towards him, eyes searching him out, Arthur had stepped back, stepped away from the most extraordinary man he'd ever met.

“Are you just going to stand there looking mournful or are we actually going to get Merlin?” Gwaine asked, voice cutting through Arthur's thoughts like a knife to the heart.

Arthur made a face and got on to his horse, aware that they were attracting stares. The story the others had spread was some nonsense about some hunting trip – no need to stay behind and look after the King because he's perfectly fine – and Arthur was letting the side down.

“Come on then,” Arthur said, spurring on his horse. He felt, rather than saw, Gwaine roll his eyes. If he didn't already feel so guilty, he'd have pulled Gwaine up on that. But his heart wasn't really in it.

He rubbed a hand against his jaw. It felt better than it did. After Merlin's trail had well and truly vanished Gwaine had surprised him, them all, maybe even himself, by slamming his fist into Arthur's face. _“If you weren't such a selfish bastard,”_ Gwaine had growled, before Percival had dragged him away, practically throwing Gwaine over his shoulder.

If Arthur had been a better friend, he'd meant, though Arthur was glad that he hadn't formed the actual words. If Arthur had been worthy of Merlin's trust.

“It could have happened any time,” Leon said, moving his horse closer to Arthur's. “It was surely only a matter of time before Merlin had to use his magic in front of us. And I can't imagine Merlin staying behind even if you had known. There was nothing that we could do.”

Arthur nodded, more to acknowledge Leon's guilt than to appease his own. He _knew_ , deep within his bones, that Leon had a point. That logically Leon's words made perfect sense. Mordred and his cohorts froze them with their magic, so it was impossible for any of them to move until fifteen long minutes had passed. Fifteen minutes of berating himself for a fool. And berating Merlin for not doing what he always must have, and played the fool, performed his magic in such a way that it seemed like happenstance that they were all saved.

But he hadn't.

“There was nothing that we could have done,” Arthur repeated and Leon nodded, apparently satisfied. Arthur was anything but.

* * * * * *

_There are birds singing. The tune is uneven, the meaning lost in the wind. It is the first sign of life. It is the first sign that all is not lost. Only him. He is lost. Slipped between the cracks and the cracks sealed over and now there is no trace of what was once. But there are birds singing. And that is enough._

* * * * **

Gwaine and Lancelot were having a hushed conversation just behind him and to his right. Arthur could hear snatches of their words but he was deliberately trying to block them out. He could tell that Gwaine was pestering Lancelot for more information and even Lancelot, so normally patient, had become slightly terse with him. But Arthur understood, as they all must, who could hear their talk but were so studiously avoiding joining in, that there was a burning need for him to know Merlin as Lancelot did.

Arthur sped up his horse, not enough to lose the others, but enough so that he couldn't hear them any more. Normally by now he'd be hissing at Merlin to shut up. Or throwing something at him. He used to enjoy the silence of the hunt, the concentration required. But now he realised he used to enjoy Merlin's complaints as well. Merlin's insistence on saving the animals they were trying to kill by stumbling into their way.

“I haven't known Merlin long,” Percival said, suddenly at Arthur's side, quieter than a man his size had any right to be, “but I doubt he got away with living undetected in Camelot for so long without learning how to look after himself.”

It occurred to Arthur that this was probably the longest speech he'd ever heard Percival make. “I'm sure you're right,” he said with a nod. Percival nodded back but didn't move away. Arthur found he didn't mind the silence so much this time.

* * * * * *

They were forced to camp for the evening sooner than Arthur had really wanted, but he'd acquiesced to Leon's suggestion – at the rate they were going they would burn themselves out and then be no help at all to Merlin. Gwaine went off to collect fire wood and Arthur considered for a moment going after him, but Elyan went instead and Arthur found that he was actually quite relieved.

He'd known, in some distant part of his mind, that Gwaine was very fond of Merlin, but he hadn't seen it in quite such vivid colours as he did now. Gwaine had a way about him that was easy to dismiss – a carelessness that was a mask for the depth of his real feelings. And Arthur could admit, at least a little, and only to himself, that he was envious of the way Gwaine showed his emotions so freely. There was certainly no denying how he felt about Merlin.

“He'll calm down,” Lancelot said, sitting next to Arthur on an upturned log. “He just needs to sort his head out.” Lancelot paused and glanced at Arthur, seeming to study his face. “He's always felt a little responsible for Merlin's well-being and the fact that Merlin always throws himself in danger whenever you ask him to...or even when you don't,” Lancelot said loudly, talking over the objection Arthur had been about to make. “He can't understand it.”

“Why anyone would risk themselves for me?” Arthur asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Lancelot gave a small shrug. “Why Merlin doesn't value his own life as much as he does yours, I think is more to the point.”

Arthur sighed. It was the same thing he'd been asking himself. Merlin _didn't_ seem to think of himself as important and there he was, a sorcerer, with so much power in his own hands....

“He's a better man than Camelot deserves,” Arthur said.

Lancelot only nodded. “A better man than any of us does.”

* * * * * *

_There's a fire inside his head, burning blue as the sea. Everywhere else there is darkness, a suffocating blackness that twists and turns and fills him up and digs inside the corners of himself he never knew he had._

* * * * * *

Arthur jerked awake with a muffled cry, his forehead drenched with sweat. A nightmare was hovering just out of reach, snatches of horrors he didn't really want to remember, but which edged around his consciousness anyway. He'd thought, for a moment, that he'd heard someone calling his name.

“Arthur...”

Arthur looked around quickly, and saw a figure standing in between two trees. His face was in shadow and he was wrapped in a long robe.

“Merlin...?” he asked, softly, voice barely above a whisper. Next to him Lancelot snuffled in his sleep.

The figure laughed, low and cruel, and Arthur knew that it was a sound Merlin would never be capable of making. The others stirred into wakefulness; Elyan, who should have been on watch, was nowhere to be seen but Arthur didn't have time to worry yet about where he was or what had happened to him.

“Burned to ashes, or didn’t you hear? And Camelot will be next to fall.”

Arthur stood, sword in hand, only vaguely aware of the others doing the same. “Camelot will never fall.”

The figure stepped forward and raised his hand but suddenly Elyan was right there, a sword to the stranger's throat. “State your name,” Elyan growled.

“I am the future of Camelot.”

Arthur stepped forward but before he could speak the figure disappeared. Elyan looked around himself quickly, but where the figure had been was only a patch of burned grass.

“We move out in five minutes,” Arthur said.

* * * * * *

They met six more of them on their journey. Six more figures dressed in black, each one telling them, telling Arthur, that Camelot was about to fall. At first he thought it was just a general warning, but then he began to feel it was something else, prickling against his skin. _“Go on and Camelot will fall. Choose a sorcerer over your father, and Camelot will fall. Dare to believe in a sorcerer, and Camelot will fall.”_ Arthur’s only option was to trust that they were idle threats and not prophecies. Anything else might send him mad.

“You don't have a plan, do you?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur looked over at him and then anyway again. “Of course I do.”

Gwaine snorted.

* * * * *

_Candles are fluttering although there is no wind. Counting down the hours. The minutes. The seconds. When they stop, nobody knows._

* * * * *

Leon was the first to spot them, holding up an arm that made everyone stop in their tracks, immediately alert. Slowly Arthur edged forward and Leon pointed towards the mouth of the cave. Two figures, a man and a woman, were sitting there, staring straight at them. They didn't seem afraid, nor did they seem to be moving. In fact, they looked very much like statues.

Keeping as silent as possible Arthur motioned for Gwaine to come with him whilst Elyan and Leon went to the left and Percival and Lancelot went to the right. He was well practised in keeping his fears off of his face, but he couldn’t help suspecting that the others knew anyway. He could see, in an abstract way, what his father meant about a king not having any friends; sometimes they knew more than was good for them.

He shook his head and carefully got down from his horse, tying it and Gwaine's to the nearest tree. Then, with his sword drawn, he and Gwaine were about to crouch their way towards the cave entrance when something Merlin had once said to him echoed back.

_”If you want help, maybe you should just ask them for it? You'd be surprised how often that's all anyone wants. To be asked.”_

At the time Arthur had dismissed Merlin's words since that was not the way things were done. But that hadn't exactly got them anywhere, had it?

Instead he stood up and whispered to a bemused Gwaine, “just follow my lead.”

At least he was confident that Gwaine would do as he was told without arguing. Probably.

“I've come to speak to your leader,” Arthur said, voice ringing out loud and clear. He could sense the others in the woods, crouching low, waiting to see what would happen. Gwaine was a comforting presence just behind them, though he'd never admit as much.

The sitting figures didn’t move.

“We mean you no harm,” Arthur said. Still nothing. Arthur moved forward and motioned for Gwaine to stay where he was. “Are you injured?” he asked, once he'd got close enough to see the dusky pallor of their skin. Still nothing.

He reached forward, and went to pat the man on the shoulder, in case he was in some magical trance that wasn't supposed to be disturbed. But the man disintegrated, turning into ash that made a neat little pile where once he'd been sitting. Arthur made a startled sound in the back of his throat and took a step back, only to find Gwaine right there, with a steadying hand on his back.

“Wha –?” Arthur asked but Gwaine was already moving forward and tentativly prodding at the woman. She too turned to dust at the gentlest of touches.

Arthur and Gwaine exchanged worried looks.

“It's like they were burnt, where they sat,” Gwaine said, after a moment. Arthur had to give him credit for voicing what they were both fearful of without actually saying the words.

There was a low whistle from their left and Arthur answered it, and the one that followed from the right. There didn't seem much pointing in the others hiding out in the forest.

Arthur had never felt more out of his depth than now. The sheer breadth of what he didn’t know about magic was pressing down on him, threatening to take everything away from him.

“Stay here,” Arthur said, pleased that his voice didn’t waver. “I'm going in alone.”

He could hear a small scuffle behind him but he ignored it, and stepped into the darkness of the cave, not even bothering to try and find a light. Something told him it wouldn't be necessary.

* * * * * *

_The keys are just out of reach. There’s a door but it's locked and the keys are floating up with the clouds and the bird's song has changed and now it's getting louder and it's the magic, the magic pressing down and through and out and there's fire always fire but it doesn't burn. It's cold. So very cold._

* * * * * *

“Your courage will serve you well, young Pendragon.”

Arthur paused and felt himself lean forward, trying to work out where the voice had come from. The cave was pitch black – not even the light from outside was penetrating its depths. The ground was unsteady underneath his feet, as if he were balancing on a boat; everything was slightly off kilter. It was not unlike the feeling he often got when talking to Merlin.

“Does my courage allow me to see your face?” Arthur asked.

Suddenly, without having seemed to have moved, the Druid was standing in front of him, a blue light appearing above them so that Arthur could see a little more of the cave. He was an old man, weathered face seemingly worn down by the weight he clearly carried on his shoulders. His hands, which he showed to Arthur, were gnarled and twisted.

“Would you believe me if I tell you that I am sorry?”

“Sorry for what?” Arthur asked.

“Everything that is to come. Death stalks you in the forest and it doesn't like to hunt without reward. One _will_ die this night. There must be a balance and Emrys has disrupted it.” The Druid shook his head fondly. “Even if he didn't know he was doing it.”

“Emrys? You mean Merlin, don't you?” Arthur asked, confused and annoyed at the Druid's riddles. Would no one ever give him a straight answer to anything?

“You know him as Merlin, but before the age of men is closed, he will be known as Emrys throughout this world and the next.”

Arthur really had no idea what to say to that. Instead he tried to focus back on why they were there in the first place.

“Do you know where Merlin is?”

“He died,” the Druid said, with a small shrug of the shoulders. “Where do the dead go?”

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. “But he wasn't – he didn’t really die. They said there was no...no remains. He can't have died if there was no body.”

“There are many forms of death, Pendragon.”

Arthur took a breath to keep his temper in check. “Can he be brought back from where he went, then? Is that what we're supposed to do?”

The Druid smiled, and it was if he became thirty years younger. Suddenly it was a man that Arthur could see, not some ancient mystical creature. A man of flesh and blood who wanted the troubles of the world to be put to rest.

“You must undertake a Quest. You and your Knights of the Round Table.”

Arthur nodded. Quests he was used to. “And that will bring Merlin back?”

“Emrys has stepped sideways, out of the world. He must find his own way back. Your task is to be there when he does.”

“I don't understand. He's where?”

“There are many worlds within worlds Pendragon. Like ripples upon a pond they can each be effected by what happens in the other. Emrys sought shelter in the only place he could, a place of magic so pure it will overwhelm him if he cannot hang on to what is good about this world. If he forgets you and his friends, then he will be lost in the darkness for ever.”

Arthur's blood ran cold at the thought of Merlin trapped, alone. “And Mordred? Why did he attack us?”

The Druid sighed and there he was, an old man, his back more stooped than it had been when Arthur entered the cave. “Mordred knew that Emrys is the only one that could delay him killing you. And he has been gaining power over the other Druids. Killing those that disagree with him. Rewarding those that join him.” The Druid slowly opened his robe and Arthur saw the knife still embedded in his side, the blood soaking his shirt. “We are a peaceful race, Pendragon. We have faith in you, even when you lose it in yourself. This, this is not our way.” The Druid slid to the floor then and Arthur moved forward, wanting to help, but the Druid raised his hand and Arthur found that he could not move any more. “Mordred _will_ kill you. How long you survive till then is in your hands. There is a Room in a Tower in a Castle, on the shores of the Perilous Land. When the Moon is at its brightest, when all seems lost, the Lady of the Forest will ask you three questions. Lie to her and you will never see Emrys again.”

The Druid was fading fast and much as Arthur wanted to ask more questions his mouth refused to open and all he could hear was a rushing sound, as if a great wind were ripping around him, trying to pull at his clothes and force him to the ground.

“Tell no lies,” the Druid said again, as his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. Arthur could see that the ground below him was now soaked with blood and cursed the fact that he hadn't noticed the man's injuries before now, but the darkness of the cave and the Druid's own stubbornness had proved more powerful than his eyes. “Follow the path of least resistance.”

And then Arthur could move, falling forward so that he was on his hands and knees as the Druid seemed to explode in a flash of blinding blue light.

* * * * *

_Crashing waves. Gulls crying. Light so sharp it hurts. Pain. Every atom on fire._

_Merlin opened his eyes and gasped, almost sobbing at the relief he felt as air, glorious air, went into his lungs and he could feel his heart beating once again. His head felt groggy, like he'd had too much wine the night before, and his limbs felt heavy, as if he were suddenly too heavy for the world. And the light, the light seemed to be pouring into his eyes and all around, little spikes of heat and cold that were confusing his senses._

_Slowly getting accustomed to his surroundings Merlin realised that he was not alone and felt himself back up against the pillows of the bed he was lying on._

_“Hello Merlin. I thought you were never going to wake up.”_

_“Morgana?_

* * * * * *

“Arthur? Arthur can you can hear me? Sire?”

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, only to have reality come crashing around him when he blinked open his eyes to find Leon staring sadly down at him. 

“No, sire, just me. Can you move?”

Arthur nodded and groaned as Leon helped him to sit up. He looked around, rubbing at his neck. He was outside the cave now, sitting on the grass.

“What happened?” he asked. His voice felt croaky, as if it was out of practice.

“There was a bright light. We went in to find out what had happened and you were just lying there, unconscious.”

“Did you find out where Merlin is?” Gwaine asked. He was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground, Lancelot hovering close to him. He looked dishevelled, as if he'd had to be held back. Arthur found himself smiling at the thought and Gwaine blinked, surprised. 

“In a manner of speaking,” he said, allowing Leon to pull him fully upright. “We have a Quest to go on.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Great. Because nothing bad has ever happened when we've gone on a Quest.”

Arthur ignored him. He couldn’t explain it, but knowing that Merlin was fighting just as hard to be found as they were to find him had made all their problems seem surmountable. Arthur might not know anything about magic, but he knew how to follow instructions. He'd let Merlin down once before, he certainly wasn’t going to allow it to happen again. 

“And what do we have to do?” Leon asked. “On this Quest?”

“Head to the shore of the Perilous Lands and find a Castle. Merlin will be waiting for us.” 

“So we're just going to go on the word of some Druid in a cave, then?” Gwaine asked, clearly fighting back a grin. 

Arthur grinned back. “Got a better idea?”

“As always, sire, my wish is merely to follow your lead.”

Arthur gave the others two minutes to stop laughing before deciding that they needed to head out. 

* * * * * 

Arthur rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck, giving a satisfied sigh when the bones cricked back into place. He wished that he could remember exactly what had happened in the cave after the Druid told him about the Quest they had to embark on, but it was still a complete blank.

“You seem better in yourself, sire,” Leon said, riding close to Arthur. “You really think we can do this?”

Arthur nodded, careful not to quite meet Leon's eye. “I don't see why not. We've faced tougher challenges than a few Druids, after all.”

“But we had Merlin at our side, then,” Leon pointed out. 

Arthur huffed. “We were defending Camelot perfectly well before he turned up.”

Leon shrugged. “It doesn't feel like it.”

Arthur really didn't have an answer to that.

* * * * * *

Arthur and his Knights avoided the more populated areas of the kingdom, choosing to skirt around the outlying villages. Arthur, although familiar with many of these places from hunts and his own inspections of the land, still encountered places that were new to him; many of the short cuts they travelled along were thanks to Lancelot, Gwaine and Elyan, whose combined knowledge of the lesser frequented areas of Camelot was impressive, even if at the same time Arthur didn't want to know why they exchanged knowing looks as they passed certain villages. There were times when keeping himself aloof from his men really did pay off. 

That being said, they had settled into a gentle camaraderie since they'd left the Druid's cave, which was much less fraught with tension that it had been. Having a purpose and the real hope of finding Merlin had made all the difference. 

It was only when Arthur thought back to the Druid's words, _”One will die this night”_ , that his good mood vanished. Who would it be? Gwaine, whose love for Merlin shone like a beacon? Lancelot, who’d known and kept Merlin's secret? Elyan and Percival who had struck up an unlikely friendship with him? Leon, who'd come to respect Merlin as a constant by Arthur's side? Or Arthur himself? Who'd been too blind to see what was right in front of him?

“Worrying won't help Merlin,” Gwaine said, “and you’re worrying your horse.”

Arthur turned to Gwaine, ready to snap at him, but as he did so he noticed that his hands were like vices around his reigns and his horse, a loyal and noble beast, was struggling to contain itself. Immediately he loosened his grip. 

“I wasn't worrying,” Arthur said, belatedly.

Gwaine just stared at him for a moment. “You're not _that_ much of an idiot.” Then, in a quieter tone that Arthur barely heard Gwaine muttered, “we're all worrying”.

“Merlin would probably do or say something terribly foolish, right about now, and I'd completely forget what I was worrying about.”

“I wonder how much of that is Merlin, and how much is him hiding his magic?”

Arthur had been thinking along similar lines himself. “I don't think Merlin's that good of an actor. We've just been blinded by his naturally idiocy.”

Gwaine smiled. “I'll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“Down!” Leon shouted from behind them, and Gwaine and Arthur did as he commanded, jumping from their horses and drawing their weapons as flaming arrows fell about them. 

“What the - ?” Arthur started to ask, but Gwaine's firm grip against his arm as he pulled him out of harm's way knocked the breath out of him. They fell to the floor and then rolled in synch, fire close enough to singe Arthur's hair. 

“Incoming!” Percival shouted and more arrows flew through the sky straight towards them. 

Arthur, unfamiliar with the area, had no idea where the best place to hide might be. “Gwaine, we need to get out of the trees.”

Gwaine nodded and moved to crouch on one knee, scanning the area and apparently getting his bearings. “There should be a gully to the left, that leads to an abandoned mine. We could shelter there.”

“Should?”

“Is, there _is_ a gully,” Gwaine corrected, pulling at Arthur's arm. Arthur let them, motioning with his free hand for the others to follow, which they did, running as fast as they could from an enemy that they still could not see. 

* * * * * *

_”Arthur!” Morgana shouted, and a wind ripped through the room, knocking Merlin backwards. Morgana's eyes flashed gold, then red, then gold again as her magic rippled out of control._

_“Morgana! Morgana!” Merlin shouted, crawling on his hands and knees until he was able to grab at Morgana's hands, holding them tightly in his own. “Morgana, you need to calm down.”_

_“Arthur's in danger,” she said, her eyes now glowing a fluorescent white._

_“Arthur's always in danger,” Merlin replied. “This isn't helping.”_

_Morgana tilted her head but despite the carnage in the room around them, despite the fierceness of Morgana's magic, Merlin was perfectly calm and perfectly unruffled. Morgana felt her magic unclench from around her heart and the room stilled._

_“You still haven't told me what you're doing here, wherever here is. Or what I'm doing here.”_

_“You stepped sideways,” Morgana said. “So did I.”_

_“I – I don't know what that means.”_

_“Come on, I'll take you on a tour. Things will be clearer then.”_

_“And Arthur?” Merlin asked, because he couldn’t not._

_“You're right. Arthur’s always in danger. He always manages to get himself out of it.”_

_Merlin refrained from pointing out that that was usually because he was at Arthur's side. Instead he dutifully followed after Morgana and found that the further away from the room he got, the less his mind dwelt on Arthur and Camelot._

* * * * * 

“Do you think they're raiders?” Elyan asked, as they all hunkered down in the entrance to the mine Gwaine had thankfully remembered. 

“Could be,” Gwaine said. “Had a run-in with them myself here a while back. Ooh, yes, here's one of them now.”

Arthur turned, ready to attack, only to find Gwaine was kicking some human bones with his foot. Arthur thought about asking for details and then frowned at him in what he hoped was a kingly manner. “Stop messing around.”

Gwaine shrugged and winked at Elyan who tried very hard not to laugh. Though not hard enough in Arthur's opinion. 

Just then Lancelot slunk next to them, having gone out to see what he could. 

“Well?” Arthur asked. 

Lancelot was white as a sheet, as if the blood had drained completely out of it. “You should go see for yourself,” he said. “No, just Arthur,” he added, when the others moved to stand up. “I think it'll be all right.”

“This is one of the tests?” Arthur asked, but Lancelot just nodded, speech taken from him for the moment. 

He shook his head at Leon, who was preparing to follow him outside. “I'll be fine.”

“Or you'll be dead,” Leon said. 

“Or I'll be dead,” Arthur agreed, handing Leon his sword. “Five minutes.”

Leon shook his head. “Three and then we're coming out.”

Arthur nodded and patted Leon on the shoulder as he past. “Three it is then.”

Without looking back Arthur exited the mine and found he couldn't take more than two steps away from the entrance before he had to stop for breath. He slowly put his hand to his chest and felt how rapidly his heart was beating, and could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead. It was if suddenly the sun was burning brighter than it had any right to. 

“Arthur Pendragon?” a female voice said and Arthur took a moment to shield his eyes from the bright light before he could focus on her form. She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life, with long blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders and an ethereal glow to her skin. He swallowed hard, wondering exactly what this test would entail.

“I'm Prince Arthur.” Arthur tried to take another step forward, but his feet refused to move. 

“I am the Lady of the Forest. I have a question for you. Are you prepared to answer honestly?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, “I am.”

The Lady's glow lessened and Arthur marginally relaxed.

“Are you afraid of Merlin?”

Arthur opened his mouth to say, of course not, Merlin's his ridiculous servant. Except he wasn't. Not any more. He'd never been that. Arthur had felt the earth tremble and the sun flicker in Merlin's wake. He was no ordinary anything. 

“Yes,” he said eventually, “I am. No one can be unaffected by that much power. Least of all Merlin.”

It was the first time he'd even let himself think what he was feeling. He knew first-hand the damage secrets could do. How could Merlin, who seemed to live with his heart on his sleeve, burrow a secret as huge as magic away and not be affected by it? How could Arthur ever trust him again?

“I see that Merlin’s faith in you was well placed.” She looked off into the distance and Arthur followed her gaze, but could make out nothing except a flock of birds, soaring high into the sky. “You should hurry. The tendrils of Merlin's life are slipping away. For a sorcerer, he trusts far too easily.”

“Trusts who?” Arthur asked. “Is someone with him?”

But his questions were taken by the wind that blew up and the Lady of the Forest seemed to evaporate before his very eyes.

* * * * * * 

_”Where are we going?” Merlin asked._

_“Into the Fields of Golden Flowers,” Morgana said, “where the magic of the land is strongest.”_

_Merlin nodded. “Okay,” he said, holding tight to Morgana's hand as she led him away. He chanced a look back towards the room they'd left, but instead of a door there was only a wall, and he couldn't remember what he'd been looking for anyway._

* * * * *

When Arthur came back to himself he found that Gwaine was leaning against the tree in front of him. The relaxed form of his body belied the furious look on his face and Arthur realised that there was no avoiding the upcoming conversation.

“I gather you heard all that?”

Gwaine shrugged, nonchalantly, but Arthur had long ago realised that you could never judge Gwaine's mood by the relaxed curve of his spine. 

“It doesn't mean I'm any less committed to finding him. I want him home, just as much as you do. But he's...he's not the person I thought he was. And I'm not going to pretend that him having magic, being a sorcerer, that it doesn't terrify me.”

Gwaine stared at him for a long moment and it was only years of his father's similarly assessing gaze that helped Arthur to hold back from flinching. 

“All right,” Gwaine said. “We should head out. It'll be dark soon and we still need to find the horses.”

Arthur watched in silence as Gwaine walked past him and went to pick up his pack. The other knights were watching them both curiously, ready, Arthur suspected, to pull them apart if they started fighting. 

He wasn't sure whether or not he would have preferred that. At least then he'd truly know where he stood.

* * * * * 

It was Elyan who managed to track down the horses to the small lake they'd run to. There was still no sign of whoever had fired the arrows, though Arthur put both Leon and Lancelot on the lookout for them. He wasn't convinced that the Lady of the Forest had been responsible for that. It seemed more likely that the Druids, at least those loyal to Mordred, were going to do everything they could to prevent them finding and bringing Merlin back. 

“They don't look too bad. Though I think Leon's may be lame,” Elyan called. Arthur sighed, that was all they needed.

“Let me take a look,” Lancelot said, and he and Elyan proceeded to lead Leon's horse a little away from the others. 

Arthur moved over to the lake and stared out at it. He'd passed one test, but he didn't feel particularly happy about it. 

There was a time, not so long ago, that he would have been elated at passing a test like this. But somehow the tests he used to be faced with didn't seem as important as these ones. Then he'd just been playing at King, now he could feel the ghostly weight of the crown on his head and the call of duty pulling at him. Would his father ever forgive him for not being there in what surely must be his final days? Would Camelot?

“Sire,” Leon said, quietly. “I think we have a visitor.”

Arthur turned and saw a wizened old man, with a long beard and strangely pointed hat on his head, stumbling towards them. Percival, who was nearest to him, leant him a hand and together they approached Arthur. 

“Can you spare some food for an old man, your Lordship?” the man asked. 

“Of course,” Arthur said, without hesitation, motioning for Lancelot to bring some food over. “Do you live very far from here?”

“I used to live in the Field of Golden Flowers, but there's someone else there now. I'm out of time and out of place, my magic hangs by the _tiniest_ of threads. Young Merlin doesn't know that he's fighting a war and I'm sorry for your loss.”

Arthur's jaw had dropped as the man began speaking, his voice suddenly very different, more powerful and tinged with something that Arthur was beginning to recognise as magic. It was like the lightest of touches against his skin and he marvelled at the fact that he'd never noticed it before. A tiny voice he buried quickly wondered if it was because he was born of magic. But he had enough to worry about without rehashing his old fears on that account.

“How can we let Merlin know what's happening? Is there a way to get a message to him?” Arthur was only vaguely aware of his knights encircling him, their presence a vague and reassuring comfort he'd become used to these last few months. His father would hate that, if he truly knew the extent Arthur relied on his knights, on his friends; it was one more thing to add to the list of criticisms Arthur knew he would face when he got back to Camelot, when he brought Merlin home. 

“Will you ride all night in a moonless sky?” the old man asked. “Will you kill the one who holds him?”

“If I have to,” Arthur said, words tasting strangely bitter on his tongue. He knew there had to be more to it than that, but the old man's eyes were twinkling and it seemed that he had passed the test. Again. 

“Then ride,” the old man said. He raised his hand and a blue light streaked out of it, dashing through the trees and away into the distance, leaving behind a path of glittering stones. “Follow the road, young Pendragon. And may Merlin forgive you.”

The old man was gone before Arthur could ask him what he meant, but the cold feeling was back in his bones. There was something there that he was missing, some riddle that he couldn't unlock. But the knights were looking at him, all eager for action, and Arthur couldn’t deny them that. 

“Is your horse up to it?” he asked Leon. 

Leon patted his animal fondly. “He won't let us down.”

“Then let's move out.” He didn't suggest they eat first, or rest. He knew there would be no point. Destiny was pulling at them and he felt powerless to do anything about it.

* * * * * 

_”It's beautiful,” Merlin sighed, standing in the middle of a circle of golden flowers. “Who planted them?”_

_“No one,” Morgana said. “Everyone. They represent everyone with magic that has died by Uther's order.”_

_Merlin turned towards her, a thin prickling of wariness ghosting over his skin._

_“There are a lot of flowers, don't you think?” Morgana asked. “A lot of death. And then there's you.”_

_“Me?”_

_“That's you, there,” Morgana said. She pointed to a whole field of flowers on a steep incline, disappearing into the distance so that Merlin couldn't tell where they ended._

_“Me?” Merlin repeated. He heard a voice in his head, not unlike that of someone he thought he ought to know, telling him to stop asking such idiotic questions._

_“So much magic, Merlin. And what do you choose to do with it? Protect Arthur. And Camelot. It's rotting from within and the only thing holding it together is you. Except you aren't there any more.”_

_“How did I get here?” Merlin asked. He could smell smoke now, but no matter where he looked, he couldn't see any flames._

_“Fear. Cowardice. You ran away, Merlin, when Arthur needed you most.”_

_Merlin blinked, a vision swirling before his eyes. He could see Arthur's face, so afraid. What was he afraid of? Him, he was afraid of him._

_“He - “_

_“He burned you, don't you remember Merlin? Arthur burned you alive.”_

_Merlin could feel the flames now, flicking at his skin, hot and painful, but with a strange mix of pleasure that he couldn’t understand. He didn't feel afraid, just confused. And unsure of what to trust – Morgana's words, his own eyes, or the feeling of certainly coiled within him that Arthur would never hurt him._

_Merlin held on to that feeling, that feeling of certainty and trust. It stood out, in stark contrast to this world he found himself in, where nothing was as it seemed. He smiled, softly to himself, as he felt his magic, dormant since he'd woken, now part of him once more._

_“Who are you? Why are you keeping me here?”_

_“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana said, “I'm not keeping you here.” Slowly, like the ripples of the sea, Morgana's face morphed into that of Merlin's. “You are.”_

* * * * * * 

Arthur was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. And he could tell that the others weren't faring much better themselves. But none of them suggested that they stop. So it was with a heavy heart that Arthur gave the order himself. 

“We'll be no good to him if we don't take a break. At least for a couple of hours.”

Gwaine looked like he was about to argue, but Lancelot's hand upon his arm stopped him short and he nodded. “I'll get us some fire wood.” Lancelot inclined his head at Arthur and then trailed after Gwaine.

Leon came over to Arthur. “Why don't you get some sleep, sire. We'll sort out a watch.”

Arthur nodded. His father had always said that sometimes you needed to listen to what your men told you, even if you didn't agree with it. As he lay down on the ground he snorted softly to himself. His father was very good at giving out advice that he never intended to follow himself.

* * * * * 

Arthur knew that he was dreaming straight away. He never did usually. But there was something different about this dream and it took him only a few minutes to realise that it was because it was magic. He was surrounded by magic. And flowers. Golden flowers as far as the eye could see. 

And sitting right in the middle of the brightest circle of them, was Merlin. And Merlin. 

Arthur blinked, but still he could see two Merlin's facing each other, each seemingly deep in concentration.

“Merlin?” he asked, tentatively moving forward. Both Merlin's turned to look at him. Both seemed haggard, weighed down. But one held a slight spark of defiance in his eyes, a look that Arthur had seen many times. It was that Merlin he addressed. “We're coming for you, all right? We're going to bring you home. I'm – I'm sorry. I'm sorry you couldn't confide in me. And when you get out of here we're going to have a _very_ long talk. But just hold on, okay?” 

He could feel the wind around him, pushing him backwards. He tried to hold on as long as he could, and it was only when Merlin, _his_ Merlin, gave the tiniest of nods, that he allowed himself to wake up. 

* * * * * 

“How long have I been asleep?” Arthur asked, voice groggy and rough. 

“A couple of hours,” Leon answered, from somewhere above Arthur's head. 

“It didn’t seem that long,” Arthur muttered. He pulled himself up until he was sitting and able to look at the others. They were all in various states of wakefulness themselves. A small fire was keeping them warm and lighting the area – there was no moon or stars to do that for them. 

“They went out a little over an hour ago,” Leon said, pointing at the sky. “One by one, the stars just,” he shrugged, “vanished.” 

Arthur nodded. He remembered that the dream world had seemed full of stars, their light almost drowned out by the shine of the Golden Flowers. “They slid sideways out of the world,” he said. He felt rather than saw the others shift in position, tensing up. “My father said that, didn't he? Just before his last attack.”

Leon, the only one of the knights to have been present when the King had collapsed, nodded. “Those were his exact words, sire. But they didn’t make any sense at the time.”

“They've gone where Merlin's gone. And where I think part of my father has gone. A refuge and a prison for magic and those who fought it.” He looked around at his men, loyal and brave, all looking towards him as if he had the answers, as if what he was saying made perfect sense because he was the one saying it. “The Druid said that one would die this night.” He admired the way that none of them spoke and all held themselves perfectly still. “He didn’t say who.” 

His dream flittered before his eyes once more. The figure taking shape clearly behind the other Merlin, a shape he hadn't wanted his dream mind to look at or his waking mind to remember. 

“But he meant my father. The King is dead.”

“Then long live the King,” Gwaine said, bowing his head. The others all did the same. None of them doubted that Arthur's words were true, which almost made it worse. His father was dead and he hadn't been there. Never mind if his father ever forgave him for that, what if he never forgave himself? Or worse, blamed Merlin.

“Now isn't the time for mourning,” Arthur found himself saying, “we still have a long road ahead of us.” He turned away so that he couldn't see the sympathetic faces on his men. He'd been preparing for this moment for his whole life; he could do this. 

“We're ready whenever you are, sire,” Leon said. 

* * * * *

_Merlin stared for a moment at the place where Arthur had once been. And then he felt a presence behind him and turned, only to scramble to his feet once he recognised King Uther._

_“Sire...” he began to say, confused. But the other Merlin, the other him, was smirking and a cold feeling settled along Merlin's spine. The King had been ill when they'd left and now...and now..._

_“Punishment, for all this,” the other Merlin said, arms outstretched. And each Golden Flower turned into those that had died at Uther's hand. Merlin resolutely did not count how many he recognised and definitely did not look for his own father._

_Merlin shook his head but it was Uther who spoke. “You did this?” he asked them both, eyes darting between them. Merlin shook his head, while the other one laughed, a hollow sound that echoed around the fields._

_“No,” Merlin said. “Sire, you have to believe me...” He trailed off. It was obvious Uther wasn't really listening._

_“So, this is death,” he said._

_“I'm not sure what it is,” Merlin said. He looked over towards the castle, memories tugging at him. He thought about Arthur, about the other side of him. There was something, something he should do._

* * * * * *

“This didn't used to be here,” Elyan said, for the second time. He was standing next to Arthur and staring at the hedge and mesh of thorns that seemed to have sprung up since the last time Elyan had ventured this far. Arthur found he wasn't even a little surprised to find their path blocked like this. 

“Magic,” he said with a shrug. “It's as if they can do whatever they like.”

Arthur ignored Elyan's concerned expression and nodded instead at Percival. Percival nodded back, a look of pure glee on his face, as he raised an axe and started to clear a path for them. 

“You really think that's going to work?” Gwaine asked nobody in particular. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Arthur asked, more than a hint of annoyance in his tone. 

Gwaine raised his hands in surrender. “No, sire, just musing aloud.”

Arthur turned back to watch Percival and tried not to worry. 

* * * * * 

_”You're going to have to trust me, sire. If you want to get out of here.”_

_Uther glared at Merlin but something of Merlin's confidence seemed to effect him and he nodded, much to the howled disgust of the ghosts encircling them._

* * * * * 

“Can you hear the sea?” Leon asked. Percival was lying, sweat-soaked and exhausted on the ground in the middle of the path they had created, while Gwaine and Elyan took turns to continue, ever certain that they would soon reach their destination. 

Arthur started hacking at the thorns himself. “Yes, I can.”

* * * * * 

_Merlin practically dragged the late King to the door of the Tower, which opened as if on command. Merlin could feel the true extent of his magic now, buzzing under the skin. He had to get back to the room he'd been in before. He had to see the King safely there. Then he could rest._

_The other Merlin's hollow laugh echoed after him._

* * * * * *

“There it is,” Arthur said, pausing to wipe at his brow. The tower soared up in front of them, glowing impossibly white. It was far taller than any tower in Camelot and Arthur wasn't sure whether he'd ever seen anything so beautiful or so terrifying. 

And then, without having felt himself move, he was standing in front of the door to the tower, etched into the brickwork near the ground, and he was all alone. 

* * * * *

_”Step through, sire. It will be all right.”_

_The King turned to look at Merlin, his gaze seeming to penetrate all the places that Merlin had hidden his true feelings. He felt wet tears splash against his cheek but didn't dare move to wipe them away._

_“Harm him, and I will wreak a vengeance on you the likes of which have never been seen before.”_

_Before Merlin could offer any promises, the King stepped through the door to the tower and disappeared into a vast golden light._

* * * * * * 

Arthur shielded his eyes from a bright light as a figure stepped out of the door in front of him and then seemed to evaporate before he could register who it had been. He only hoped that that hadn't been his last chance to rescue Merlin.

But then Merlin was standing before him, looking haggard but no worse than many a time Arthur had seen him after a hard day's work. 

Another Merlin appeared before him and Arthur found he couldn’t look away. The other was so obviously not _his_ Merlin, and yet by appearance alone they were identical. Then the other Merlin twisted into Morgana and Arthur felt a deep flush of shame that he didn't know whether this too was merely an illusion, or if she was the friend, the _sister,_ he thought he knew. 

“So you’ve come,” Morgana said. “I wasn't sure you would.”

“You're keeping him here?” Arthur asked, reaching for a sword that suddenly felt too heavy, too sinister. “Why?”

Morgana laughed. “As I've already told him, I'm not keeping him here. He is.” She morphed back into Merlin, and smirked. “He was so afraid as he burned. He might not have looked it, but he was. Afraid of what you'd do to him if you saw him. Afraid to ask for help. Afraid to fight Mordred and make his prophecies come true. Afraid to do nothing. Afraid of losing all his friends. Afraid of so many, many things. And instead of making a decision, paralysed, he slipped outside the world and created a room, inside a tower, inside a castle by the sea. Surrounded by the things he feared he was and would become. Weighed down by history and the pull of Death that has been calling him to her since the day he was born.” 

Arthur shivered, the hairs rising on the back of his neck. There was so much that he had missed – Merlin’s power and his fear, and his stupid, stupid self-sacrificing nature. He stared at Merlin and Merlin stared back, and he couldn’t find the words for everything that he wanted to say. And then Merlin croaked out a question. 

“Are you dead too?”

Arthur felt his practised reserve slip a little. “No, Merlin, I'm not dead.”

“But death is your choice.” 

The Lady of the Forest appeared before them, dressed in a long red robe this time, her hair a dark brown, twined intricately around her head. 

“No,” Arthur said. “You can't make me...”

“I'm not going to make you do anything, young Pendragon. The choice of action is yours, and yours alone.”

Arthur chanced a glance at Merlin, who only looked confused, and less hopeful than he had done before. Arthur tried to find a way to block out the words in his head. But he couldn't. They seemed to echo all around him and he wondered whether that was what going mad felt like.

>   
>  _”Will you kill the one who holds him?”_ _”Will you kill the one who holds him?”_  
> 

“You promised to answer honestly, Pendragon. What is your answer?”

“Answer to what?” Merlin asked. Arthur smiled at him. The colour was returning to his cheeks now, he looked more alive, more vital, than he had before. 

“Will this save him?”

“Arthur, what are you talking about?” Merlin asked, but Arthur ignored him. 

“That's for you to decide.”

Arthur turned his back on Merlin and looked around him. The area outside of the tower was barren now. The flowers he'd seen in his dream – vision – whatever it was – were gone or dying and there was no sign of his knights anywhere. He hoped that they were keeping themselves safe, and not doing anything reckless to find him. 

But even as he thought it, he knew it was useless. He only hoped that Leon would manage to reign Gwaine in a little. For all their sakes. 

“Arthur, what – I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. I don't – sometimes I don't know my own strength. Magic is – I – Arthur at least _look_ at me.”

Arthur turned around and took a step back, away from Merlin. He winced at the look of despair on Merlin's face. “You didn't do anything, Merlin. At least,” he amended, as the Lady of the Forest raised a delicate eyebrow, “not all of it. I think someone’s been twisting your magic for their own gains. Mordred?” he asked the Lady of the Forest. 

She shrugged. “He is very powerful. And unlike Merlin he is not self-taught. The Druids pass on their knowledge and they have a lot of knowledge. And Mordred can be very persuasive.”

“And you, where do you fit into all this?”

“I'm a neutral party,” she said. Then her cold stance seemed to diminish and Arthur found that he wasn't nearly as wary of her as he had been. She stepped up and planted a kiss on Merlin's forehead. “I'm probably going to be punished for this. But yes, it will save him.” She moved over to Arthur and planted a kiss atop his head. “I'm not sure it will do the same for you.”

Arthur stared at her, trying to keep his expression neutral. It wouldn't do to alarm Merlin. Not yet at least. 

But Merlin had always had an uncanny ability to read him, and Arthur wondered now for the first time how much of that was Merlin and how much of that was magic. 

Or perhaps it was time he stopped thinking of the two as separate. 

“I swear, Arthur, if you don't start explaining....”

“I'm supposed to kill the one who's keeping you here.” He said the words very slowly, each one an effort. Merlin's frown soon turned to wide-eyed horror. 

“But I'm - “ He couldn't finish the sentence, instead his eyes drifted down to Arthur’s sword. “Oh.”

A tile from the roof of the tower fell to the ground, narrowly missing Arthur's head. He looked up and then glared at Merlin. “Was that you?”

“Um, maybe?” 

“Look, if this will save you...send you back to...wherever....then, I'm prepared to do it.”

“You're prepared to kill me?” Merlin said. He sounded more amused than afraid, which made Arthur grip his sword even tighter. 

“It's not as if you're really going to die. It'll just be like going to sleep.”

“I don't know,” Merlin said, “I think I might have died more than enough for one lifetime.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, just get over here so I can finish you off.”

Merlin started smiling, and then he was gripping his side, laughter overtaking him, and Arthur gave a long-suffering sigh. He also took in as much of Merlin's smile as he could though, in case this didn't work. No matter what happened, he was always going to have Merlin's blood on his hands. 

“Sorry,” Merlin said, hoisting himself upright, “I don't know what came over me.” Merlin immediately sobered as he looked at Arthur. “You don't have to do this. I can, I can find my own way back.”

Arthur nodded. “You could.” _But you shouldn’t have to. I don't want you to be alone._ “But I won't let you get away with shirking your duties any more than you have already.”

Merlin gave a little broken smile and then made a show of preparing himself, which made it much worse. But Arthur wasn't going to tell him that. He was never going to tell Merlin exactly how he was feeling right now; Merlin stepped forward and Arthur suspected he would never have to. 

“I trust you,” Merlin said, softly. 

Once Arthur would have revelled in having another's trust, because it made him worthy in his father's eyes, because it was expected, because without trust a King was nothing. But now he saw it for what it was, a burden as well as a support. And he felt the weight of it pressing down upon him, heavier than before. As he raised his sword and placed the tip of it against Merlin's wildly beating heart he knew there would be no more lightness. 

And then he plunged the sword into Merlin. 

* * * * ** 

When Arthur woke the first things he saw were golden flowers and immediately his heart sank. He'd failed, then. But then his arm was being jostled and Merlin was staring down at him. Bright, vibrant, Merlin, with a smile wider than any he'd seen before. And when Merlin hauled him into a bone-crushing hug, he didn’t even hesitate before returning it, basking in the feeling. He knew such comfort would be few and far between. 

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?”

“Gwaine!” Merlin shouted, gently extricating himself from Arthur before Gwaine hauled him up into another hug, hands drifting lower than Arthur had even dreamed of. He narrowed his eyes at Gwaine and scowled when Gwaine merely winked. 

“Are you all right?” Gwaine asked Merlin, holding him at arm's length to allow his eyes to more freely roam over him. 

Merlin nodded. “Thanks to Arthur.” He turned and smiled at Arthur and any annoyance Arthur felt at Gwaine's interruption disappeared. If nothing else, Merlin was still his. 

“I had a little help along the way,” Arthur said, feeling light-headed and magnanimous. 

Gwaine snorted but pressed Merlin into another close hug, that Merlin didn't seem at all inclined to move out of. 

But then the other knights were there and Merlin was blushing and smiling happily. He seemed so surprised that the others would be glad to see him that Arthur felt a small pinch of guilt. He looked down at his sword, which looked as clean as if it had never been used, and felt an even bigger pinch. 

“I don't know what you did,” Gwaine said, ambling over to where Arthur was standing, apart from the others, “but thank you.”

“I hardly did it for your thanks,” Arthur said, words sharper than he'd really meant. 

“And _that's_ why I'm thanking you,” Gwaine drawled. “Your Highness,” he seemingly added as an afterthought. 

Highness. It was a title Arthur had been born into, bred into, created for, but right now it seemed so alien to everything he was and everything he wanted to be. He knew, even as Merlin's eyes flashed gold at some request from Elyan, that they had a very long way to go. Camelot would not give up her traditions lightly, no matter how distasteful he now found many of them to be. 

But if the weight of the crown still waiting for him dragged him down, he knew he could always rely on his friends to help keep him steady. 

And one of them above all others.


End file.
